


To Follow a Lead

by timehopper



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Courtship, Crushes, Eavesdropping, Flirting, In-character Character Study, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22137886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/pseuds/timehopper
Summary: Claude doesn't mean to keep running into Sylvain, at first. He doesn't mean to develop feelings for him, either. But, as they say: coincidence is the mother of intention.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 32
Kudos: 284





	To Follow a Lead

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally just a silly drabble based on a random shower thought about them flirting with each other... and then it turned into a 6000+ word fic, somehow. 
> 
> ...I say somehow but it's probably just because I really like the idea of these two dancing around each other. I will stand by the idea that if anybody would appreciate Claude being a little bit sneaky and underhanded about courting someone, it would be Sylvain.

Of all the quiet places in Garreg Mach Monastery, Claude thinks his favourite might be the library. It’s quiet, solitary comfortably familiar way. It’s hardly lonely – he’s joined all the time by the people around him, flitting about and minding their own business, completely unaware of the plots he’s hatching or the schemes he’s brewing – but it is isolating, somehow, in its silence.  
  
But that same isolating silence is worth its weight in gold every time it is interrupted.  
  
It doesn’t take long for Claude to become a familiar fixture in the library. The bookshelves conceal all manner of hidden secrets; some written in ink and charcoal; some found in the people hiding behind the shelves, away from prying eyes or ears; and still more whispered between those same students, whose eyes roam the room to make sure nobody is listening.

But someone is always listening.

Claude learns, quickly, that people pay him no mind if he acts as if he is minding his own business. They ignore him at best, and cast wary glances and whispers in his direction at worst. He is used to it, though, unaffected despite the occasional wish that that wasn’t the case. Sometimes, he finds himself wishing that _he_ was the one leaning in and whispering conspiratorially in a friend’s ear.

It isn’t even for a lack of trying, really. Claude has made it a personal mission to be at least friendly, if not kind, to everyone he approaches. Sometimes it’s a genuine attempt to make friends, and others it’s what they all expect: a hunt for information, for something to use in his next plan. His mother would call it catching flies with honey. She wouldn’t exactly be _wrong_ , per se, but… Claude had quickly come to the realization that even honey would not work if the flies thought it dripped from a wolf’s teeth.

A lion’s teeth, however…

Sylvain Jose Gautier makes no effort to hide his ulterior motives. He speaks to everyone like they’re the most important person in the world to him, lifting them up and telling them whatever they need to hear to nudge them in whatever direction he has chosen for them. Insincerity spills from his lips like sweet, sugary poison, and he knows it. He _weaponizes_ it in the most insidiously gentle way, mixing it into his speech alongside his real, honest feelings.

It’s rather impressive, really, that so many people recognize it and still give him what he wants.

The first time Claude truly comes to appreciate Sylvain’s… gift, as he calls it, is a late night in the library, long after the moon had risen above the spires of the monastery. He’s alone in the dim room save for Annette, whose nose had been buried in the same book for hours upon hours. It’s just as quiet and peaceful as ever, but something about the late hour and the way the candles along the wall have almost burned to nothing sets Claude on edge. Instead of the comfort he usually feels among the dusty shelves, he is restless.

He looks to Annette and wonders if she feels the same. Her foot shifts beneath the table, drawing out a pattern Claude can not distinguish. He wonders what she’s reading.

His restlessness gets the better of him, eventually. To his credit, Claude holds out for a while - much longer than he normally would - but, as put-together as he tries to appear, he knows his restraint cannot be checked forever. And so, curious, he approaches Annette with a carefully-applied smile. 

“Must be a good book for you to be up so late.”

Annette frowns up at him, sleepy and annoyed. “Oh, Claude. I’m… just studying. What does it matter?” 

Claude raises his hands before him defensively, backing away instinctively. His smile, however, does not falter. “No need to bite my head off,” he says lightly. “I was just curious is all.” 

“Yeah, well…” Annette covers her mouth, trying to muffle her long, drawn-out yawn. “I think I’ve hit my limit anyway. I should probably go to bed. Just... one more chapter, I think...”

Claude nods and shifts, feeling a touch awkward. “Right. Well… good luck, then. And try to take it easy tomorrow, all right? You look exhausted.” 

A small smile graces Annette’s lips - a personal victory for Claude, as far as he’s concerned - and she silently returns to her studies. Claude returns to his own seat a few feet away, ready to resume his own reading… Except that the moment he re-opens his tome, Sylvain Gautier comes barreling in through the door, effectively destroying both his and Annette’s concentration.

Not that Sylvain seems to notice. Or care.

“Annette! Thank the goddess you’re here,” he says, breathing heavy and laboured as if he had been running. Despite the raspiness of his tone, however, Sylvain looks alive, face flushed and smile wide enough to light up his eyes. “Say, have you done… something with your hair? It looks amazing.”

Annette sighs resignedly. Claude takes some satisfaction in the way her eyes roll. “No, Sylvain.” 

“Really? You’re trying to tell me you just always look this good?” 

An aggravated sigh this time. “Just tell me what you want, will you?” 

And he does. It’s the usual fare: a girl kicking up a fuss after he’d broken her heart (though he claimed _she_ had been the one to shatter _his_ ). “I just need a place to lay low,” he says. “The library was close, and she’s… not exactly the studying type, if you know what I mean. I figure I’d be safe here, and if it looks like I’m helping a friend study…” 

Annette looks like she’s trying to fight back a smile, but she just can’t help herself. “Fine,” she says. “You can stay. Just don’t get in the way too much, okay?” 

“Me? Never.” Sylvain smiles and takes his seat next to Annette. True to his word, he doesn’t get in her way… at first.

Sylvain sits quietly for a long moment, but it’s easy to see that boredom is slowly overtaking him, because he starts to fidget incessantly. Claude can’t help but watch; it’s distracting, and there’s something about the way Sylvain looks like he’s holding something back that makes his hair stand on end. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to wait long to find out just what it is that’s being hidden, as Sylvain suddenly blurts out: “I can’t take in anymore. Annette, look. See this? This entire section here? It’s all wrong.” 

Annette looks at him like he’d grown a second head. “What?” 

“It’s wrong. The formula should go like this, and that rune should be tweaked slightly… see? It’s missing a stroke.”

Claude raises an eyebrow, intrigued. He glances down at his book and realizes he hasn’t read a single word in the last few minutes, so he closes it and sets it aside for now. His research on Hero’s Relics can wait; this is _much_ more interesting. He’d never had the impression Sylvain knew much of anything about magic, but…

“You’re right,” Annette says, incredulous. “How did you know that?” 

Sylvain shrugs. “Guess I just have a knack for this stuff. I…” 

He looks away for a split second, just long enough to catch Claude’s eye, and pauses before turning back to Annette, gaze lingering on Claude even as he turns his head. “The better question is, why are you studying this stuff, anyway? Isn’t it a little above our current level?” 

A sense of disappointment washes over Claude, though he doesn’t quite understand where it stems from. Had Sylvain been about to say something about himself? If he hadn’t spotted Claude, would his conversation with Annette taken a different turn?

He tells himself it doesn’t matter, that he isn’t interested. Claude has gotten quite good at lying to himself.

“Maybe it is,” Annette says, calling Claude’s attention back to the present. “But I’ve been interested in it for a long time, and I always try to study and learn as much as I can. You see, my father…” 

_Huh_ , Claude thinks to himself as Annette describes her past in detail she would never, ever willingly share with him. _How about that._

* * *

It really is just coincidence that he keeps running into Sylvain, at first. Claude spends so much time in the library it’s rare that he isn’t around when Sylvain pops in to hide from a girl or - much less often - to actually study. But no matter what his purpose is on any given day, Sylvain always manages to find himself a conversation partner (never Claude, though, despite the frequent lingering looks in his direction), and he always, _always_ manages to pull something interesting out of them.

Like when he runs into Bernadetta, who had run from Claude when he’d asked what she’d been working on. Sylvain manages to get her to show him a new chapter in the book she had apparently been writing and she swears him to secrecy over it, not knowing Claude is listening in as he selects a book across the room.

Or like how Sylvain pokes and prods at Dorothea’s taste in literature until she tells him all about how she aspires to be like the singer in the book she’s reading, which she had memorized even before joining the opera. That one stings a little; as much as Claude has tried to flatter her, Dorothea still refuses to grace him with even a single note of her favourite song. 

Sylvain even manages to get _Dedue_ to open him. Dedue, who rarely speaks to anyone who isn’t His Royal Highness. Claude listens to them exchange quiet stories of their childhoods in the back of the library, and wonders what could have possibly coaxed Dedue into smiling like that. 

It’s as frustrating as it is impressive. Sylvain, arguably, has an even worse reputation than Claude himself, and yet while Claude can’t get anyone outside of his own House to open up to him (and even within the Golden Deer, he still has his difficulties), Sylvain manages to pluck the most interesting things about a person straight from their lips without even trying.

Claude wishes he had that kind of talent. He tells himself that’s why he’s so interested in being around Sylvain, but he realizes, when he watches Sylvain coax Marianne into smiling for him, that there’s more to it than that. He doesn’t dare put a name the longing pang in his chest, though; he convinces himself that it’s simply his own curiosity shifting off of the people Sylvain talks to and on to Sylvain himself.

Because for all Claude knows of Sylvain’s reputation, and all he knows about their classmates through him, he knows frighteningly little about the man himself. And that simply will not do.

Claude resolves, as Marianne walks away with pink cheeks and a shy smile peeking out from behind her hand, that he will pick apart the mystery of Sylvain Gautier if it’s the last thing he does.

And if that means continuing to linger around him when he’s chatting with someone else, well… so be it.

* * *

It’s surprisingly easy for Claude to find what he’s looking for, even if Sylvain himself never speaks of his own interests. He’s oddly secretive, deflecting and redirecting conversation with hollow flattery or disinterested shrugs anytime it comes around to him. It may be enough to get his conversation partner to leave him be, but all it does for Claude is intrigue him further, push him even deeper into this strange, budding fascination he’s developed.

But Claude knows how to get around the deflection. He’s careful about picking his moments, and when it comes to Sylvain, he realizes right away that it’s all about finding exactly the right one.

* * *

The first thing Claude finds out that surprises him is Sylvain’s apparent love of board games.

On his way to his usual library table, he passes by Sylvain and Felix sitting across from one another with a chess board between them. A generous amount of Felix’s pieces stand off to the side, and the smile on Sylvain’s face tells Claude he’s all too aware of his impending victory.

But, as invested as Sylvain looks as he studies the pieces, brows knitted in concentration and hand to his mouth in thought, Felix looks completely and utterly bored. 

“Are you going to take much longer?” he demands. “I have better things to do than wait for you to move a piece on a board.” 

“Ah-ah,” Sylvain chides. “Patience, Felix.” 

He moves his piece and knocks Felix’s queen off its square. Sylvain plucks it off the board and adds it to his collection, catching Claude’s eye as he does. His smirk grows impossibly wide, and he honest-to-goddess _winks_ before turning his attention back to the game and waving Felix’s queen tauntingly before him. “You can’t rush perfection.”

 _No_ , Claude agrees, heart fluttering. _You can’t._

* * *

The next thing Claude learns, when he spots Sylvain and Ignatz together in the library, is that Sylvain likes art.

He sits on a table, one foot resting on it while the other taps away on the bench Ignatz sits on. They chat idly about a portrait of a knight in a book laid out before them on the table, Ignatz’s own sketchbook with rough drawings of armour set off to the side.

“The composition leaves a lot to be desired,” Sylvain says. “If the artist had chosen a slightly darker shade for more contrast… or something else entirely, like maybe a bit of gold… Yeah, that would have been better. Still, the knight’s expression makes up for it. He’s pretty handsome… as all good knights should be, of course. By the way, if you’re looking for a handsome, dashing knight to paint…”

He looks up as Claude approaches, meeting his eye and greeting him with a silent smile (and what a smile he has, too). There’s something there, something playful, something Claude can’t quite place no matter how much he wishes he could. In response, he raises an eyebrow, and whatever it is he thinks he’s caught in Sylvain’s gaze dissipates.

“Speaking of art…” Sylvain nudges Ignatz, effectively cutting off what he was about to say. His eye shifts, like he’s looking right through Claude, and though he’d thought for half a second Sylvain had been addressing him, Claude quickly realizes he can hear some girls chatting behind him. He doesn’t dare turn to look at them, or let himself laugh at the absurdity of his own thoughts, but the temptation is certainly there.

Sylvain hums. “Looks like someone needs to talk to you,” he says. “Later, Ignatz.” 

Sheepishly, Ignatz smiles. “Right. Goodbye, Sylvain.” 

They both stand. Sylvain passes right by Claude, giving him a private smile as he leaves ( _Speaking of art, indeed_ ). It would have made Claude grin if he wasn’t so frustrated - he had actually been meaning to talk to Sylvain this time. 

_Ah, well. Nothing I can do now_ , he thinks as Ignatz approaches him. Claude gives his fellow Deer a winning smile of his own. 

“Ah, Ignatz, just the man I was looking for,” he lies. “I’ve been doing a bit of light reading on the divine, and I think I might have an idea for your next drawing…”

* * *

He learns that maybe, just maybe, Sylvain is more an actor than he lets on.

Claude doesn’t hear the whole conversation. He only just catches the tail end of it as he enters the library: Sylvain is with a girl; one Claude doesn’t recognize. It’s not an unfamiliar sight, but something about the way she smiles at Sylvain and flutters her lashes at him tightens his stomach.

“I’ll see you tonight, then,” Sylvain says. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, tender as he tries to make it.

“Yes, you will.” The girl turns from him with a sly grin and exits the library, leaving Sylvain all alone.

Well, mostly.

Claude doesn’t mean to look. He really doesn’t. But it’s hard not to when Sylvain sighs like that, chest deflating and shoulders slumping. The smile he’d worn for his lady-of-the-night doesn’t _fall_ from his face so much as shatter like a porcelain mask, replaced with something darker and more… real. If Claude had to put a name to it, he would have called it disdain, but even that doesn’t seem quite right. This look is Sylvain, uncharacteristically natural and unrestrained, and it sends more than one kind of chill through him.

He doesn’t give himself time to dwell on it, because a moment later Sylvain spots Claude out of the corner of his eye and turns away, expression unreadable. He exits the library.

Claude tries not to think about it.

* * *

But then, two nights later, Claude learns that Sylvain is much more genuine and intuitive than he lets on, too.

Claude had been expecting to be alone in the library that night – it was late, and the nagging questions in his mind of what the church was hiding made him restless – but when he hears voices drifting into the hallway from inside, he pauses outside the library door and presses himself against the wall so as not to be seen. He catches Sylvain’s voice first, and then… someone else’s. Are they… is _she_ … crying? 

“Hey, Ingrid, come on…” Sylvain’s voice is low, almost inaudible. Claude holds his breath and sticks to the wall, willing himself into complete stillness and utter silence. He does not want to get caught. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up such a bad memory.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Ingrid insists. Claude can hear the quiver in her tone, the hitch in her breath. He wishes he could see Sylvain’s face. “It was my fault. When I saw this book, I… I couldn’t help myself. Glenn used to read it to me and Felix all the time…” 

A heavy sigh and a pause; and then, quiet and fragile, like the whispering of a ghost: “You loved him, didn’t you?” 

Claude leaves before he can hear any more. 

* * *

It takes some time, but Claude finally gets his chance to speak to Sylvain when he finds Teach lecturing him about ‘improper conduct.’ The library is blessedly empty but for the two of them, and so Claude finds it easy to settle in and wait his turn. He doesn’t expect to learn anything from this conversation - about either of them, really - and he doesn’t know how long it’s going to take for Teach’s quiet tirade to end, so he selects a book on war strategies and takes a seat at a nearby table. 

He tries to read, at first, but within the first ten seconds he realizes the attempt is futile. He decides to ignore the book and listen in. 

It’s hard not to, with the way Teach lists off all of the… many, many complaints against Sylvain. Byleth doesn’t sound particularly angry as they speak (when do they ever, though?), but Sylvain sounds uncomfortable all the same when he finally responds. 

“Look, I get it, okay? I’ll make an effort not to be so overt about my flirting…” 

“ _Sylvain_.” 

“Fine, fine! I’ll try not to flirt at all. Better?” 

No response from Teach at first; just a long, drawn-out silence. Claude can see them giving Sylvain the stare-down - one he himself has been subject to many a time for his own brand of ‘improper conduct’ – before they eventually relent with a sigh. “If that’s all I can get out of you…”

The conversation doesn’t last much longer. When Teach finally exits the room, Sylvain is left to slump in his seat and exhale in what Claude can only assume is a mixture of relief, aggravation, and resignation. He straightens up quickly, though, and when he does, he looks right in Claude’s direction.

A sudden smile tugs at Sylvain’s lips; Claude hurriedly looks back down at his book.

There’s movement from Sylvain’s table. Claude doesn’t dare look up, trying to keep the illusion of disinterest going. He debates saying something, though; now is his chance, now that Sylvain is finally alone. Claude’s leg bounces. He bites his lip. What can he say, though? Sylvain is—

A hand covers his book. 

"You can stop pretending to read now."

Claude's eyes snap back into focus and he looks up, bewildered but careful to maintain a straight face. Sylvain stands at eye-level in front of him, bent over the table with one palm flat against the wood and the other firmly on the page Claude hadn’t been reading. 

"Hm?" _Easy, Claude. Don’t let him know he’s caught you._ With an affected nonchalance, he tilts his head to the side. Sylvain just laughs at him - a small, pleased noise that pulls at Claude’s heartstrings - and leans in close. 

Claude frowns. He doesn’t mind that Sylvain is blocking him from his book, but he knows he needs to keep up the act for… for some reason. “You know that’s my favourite part, right?”

Sylvain sits down. “Uh-huh.” He withdraws his hand and uses it to close the book. Claude does not protest as he pushes it aside, not even bothering to look as the corner of the cover slides over the edge of the table; Sylvain seems much more interested in maintaining eye contact than ensuring the book’s welfare. More interested in _studying_ Claude, gauging him for a reaction. Is he trying to play some kind of game? 

If he is, Claude is all too willing to play with him.

Sylvain props his elbows on the table and rests his chin on his interlocked fingers. "Except you aren’t reading it,” he says. _Damn him_. “You've been staring at the same sentence for ages. I can't even remember the last time you turned a page.”

Claude smiles easily. He's played this game before. “Oh _really_ ,” he says, drawing out the word. “Do you make a habit of watching people while they go about their business, then?" 

"Maybe," Sylvain chimes. Claude isn't sure he likes what the smirk on his face implies, but he can't wait to see where it leads. "Could be something we have in common."

His heart sinks - was he really that obvious? - but his smile widens. _Can’t give ground too early,_ he thinks as he leans in too, arms folded on the table. "Could be. Care to elaborate?" 

"You seem to spend a lot of time in this library. Especially when I’m around.” There's something hidden in Sylvain’s voice, something dark under the forced casual tone, the false familiarity. Suspicion, perhaps? Or something else? 

"Is that so?" Claude speaks as if making a statement, not asking a question. 

"Yeah." Sylvain nods. His smile never falters, but his eyes narrow a little, just the slightest droop of the eyelids, enough to say that he's looking for something. "Every time I turn around, there you are. Call me curious."

Claude shrugs with one shoulder, closes one eye in a lazy wink. "Does there have to be a why? Maybe it's just coincidence."

"Coincidence that any time I have a conversation with someone, you show up and make yourself comfortable? You, the guy who never seems to do anything 'just because?'" Sylvain snorts and shakes his head. "Come on, Claude. I know I may act like an idiot, but you've got to give me some credit."

Finally, Claude lets his smile drop. He sighs, knowing he’s been beaten. If there's one thing he's learned about Sylvain in these last few weeks, it's that he's anything _but_ an idiot. He might even be too perceptive for his own good. 

"Fine," he says at last, though not without some bitterness. He hates being forced to play his hand. "You caught me." 

"Not sure it counts if you're trying to get caught." Sylvain's voice drops along with his gaze, and for a moment Claude wonders if Sylvain really does _know_. But he keeps his own gaze and his expression steady, determined not to let on any more than Sylvain thinks he has. 

"Trying to get caught, huh?" he repeats. "And why would I want to do that?" 

“I can think of a few reasons…" 

It's a stupid line and Claude knows it - knows it's one of the many he's used on girls in the past and he shouldn't let it get to him, but he feels goosebumps prickle up his arm anyway. He curses himself for it at the same time he thanks the stars his uniform has long sleeves. "Uh-huh. Take me to dinner first and I'll think about it."

Sylvain raises a brow as he studies Claude once more. The corner of his mouth tugs upward into a grin, and Claude immediately recognizes the signs that he’s about to lose control over the conversation. He cuts Sylvain off before he seizes the opportunity.

"Simmer down, pretty boy. Much as I know you'd like a piece of this, that wasn't why I was hanging around you." Something sits funny in his gut as he says it - _Because it’s a lie_ \- but Claude doesn't give himself time to dwell. "It's actually… Look. I know this is going to sound stupid, but… nobody trusts me around here." 

He frowns and decides that now would be a good time to look past Sylvain so that he doesn't have to see those lovely brown eyes agreeing with him. Self-defense, as always. "I don't know if you know this, but I've earned myself a bit of a reputation. I'm a schemer, right? I don't bother to hide it.” He frowns. “So, Sylvain, with that in mind… what would your reaction be if I, the untrustworthy and heretofore unheard-of heir to House Riegan, just came up to you out of the blue and struck up a conversation?"

Sylvain leans back, hands behind his head. He grins and winks. "'Hey, gorgeous.'"

Claude kicks him lightly under the table, but he can’t quite suppress the smile that stretches over his features. "Knock it off; I'm being serious."

"So am I!" But Sylvain laughs despite the insistence in his tone. "I take it not everyone's as willing to play nice as I am, though."

"Nope." Claude crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Everyone thinks I'm up to something, or that I have some kind of ulterior motive in getting to know them. They're not wrong," he adds before Sylvain can interject. "But it's left me a little short on friends."

"So you've been following me because… you want to be friends with me?" Sylvain's brows furrow. Confusion looks good on him, out of place as it is.

"Oh, no." Claude laughs. "If that was all I wanted, I would've asked you to play chess with me or something. And don't even try to tell me you wouldn't accept,” he adds. “I saw the way your eyes just lit up." 

Sylvain frowns, that little spark of intrigue Claude had caught extinguishing just as quickly as it had blinked into existence. He’s sad to see it go, but that doesn't outweigh the feeling of victory that warms his chest. He continues: "I've been _lingering_ around you - not following you - because you're good at getting people to open up."

"So you were looking for pointers." Sylvain frowns, like he still doesn't quite get it. No real surprise there; he still hasn’t quite made it to Claude’s finish line. 

"Wrong again!" Claude waggles a finger reproachfully at Sylvain. "I was looking to learn something, sure. But not about how to get people to open up."

At last, something clicks. Sylvain’s eyebrows rise up past his bangs. "You were getting me to open them up for you."

"Now you've got it." Claude leans forward to rest his arms on the table again. Sylvain's eyes narrow and he lifts a hand to his mouth, knuckle to his lips. 

"That's so… devious," he says. And then he breaks into a grin. "...I'm kind of into it."

"I thought you might be," Claude lies. He tries to ignore the pounding of his heart, part relief and part affection. There was always a chance Sylvain would be fine with it - the more Claude had watched him, the more alike he had realized they were, after all - but there was also the chance that he'd be furious, and he isn't sure if he'd have been okay with that result. "You're quite the wingman, you know. Even when you're not aware of it."

"I'm good at lots of _other_ things, too." He lowers his voice again, both in tone and volume, and licks his lips. Claude swears he sees Sylvain's eyes dart downward again, but he tries to ignore the way that makes his heart beat, too. "I could show you sometime, if you like."

He tries to play it cool. "Now that you mention it, there _is_ someone else I'd like to get to know better…"

"Oh yeah?" Sylvain looks genuinely intrigued. "Tell me everything."

"Well, we're in different houses, for one thing." Claude holds up a finger on the word _one_.

"Right, of course." Sylvain nods. "Why would you need my help talking to someone in your own house?" 

"Exactly! They're kind of obligated to talk to me." Claude snickers. _If only that were true._ "I knew you'd understand."

"Mhm. So if you need me, then you're probably interested in someone from the Blue Lions…" 

Claude nods. "Yup. You might even know them."

"Oh?"

"They're clever, perceptive, take all the worst opportunities to make jokes…" Claude laughs. "Or pretend to, anyway. And they're _unbelievably_ attractive…"

"Ohh…?" Sylvain's smirk spreads, catlike, and his eyes narrow even more. He's practically making bedroom eyes at Claude by now, and it's all the Golden Deer leader can do to meet them with a straight face. "They sound like a charmer. Never mind helping you out with them; can you introduce us?" 

Claude shrugs nonchalantly. "I dunno, I get the impression they're already interested in someone else."

The quirk of a brow, and Sylvain's smirk twists into something more amused. "And who might this mystery man be?" 

"Well, he's dashing, smart, and always seems to have an ulterior motive for everything…" 

Claude meets Sylvain's gaze and holds it. He's still smiling, but he's acutely aware that it doesn't meet his eyes. He's studying Sylvain for a reaction this time, searching for whatever he's not getting on the surface. He can see something has definitely shifted, though; Sylvain has gone from easy flirtation to something a little more guarded, a little more careful. He's analyzing Claude just as much as Claude is him. 

But finally, after what feels like hours, Sylvain breaks the silence. "... So," he begins slowly. "How does this mystery man feel about them…?" 

It's like a weight is lifted from Claude's shoulders. Sylvain is curious - he's moving cautiously, afraid to reveal too much of his own hand - but he's receptive, at least. And Claude has already come too far not to play every card he's got. 

"I'm not sure yet," he admits. "I was hoping I could find out over dinner."

"Ha!" Sylvain pulls back, lifting a fist to his mouth in an incredibly poor attempt to hide his wide, toothy grin. His knuckle bumps his teeth; his shoulders shake with held-back laughter. 

Claude tilts his head to the side, careful to maintain a curious, but amused expression. He wishes Sylvain would quit laughing and answer the damn proposition, but as with all things, he knows to be patient with this. 

Eventually, Sylvain’s silent amusement gives way to actual laughter. Claude feels a small jab of annoyance hit him in the chest, but it flashes like lightning and vanishes a split second later when he realizes it's pleased laughter, not mocking.

Even so, Sylvain trembles, and Claude manages to realize that it’s not with mirth, but nerves. It’s a subtle difference, one he has only come to recognize from so frequently seeing someone come close to piercing Sylvain’s careful façade.

"Ha ha… did you just… Did you seriously just ask me out on a date?" he asks, incredulous. "Damn. I gotta say, I'm not used to being the one asked out.” He pauses and looks away, scratching his cheek without realizing he’s drawing attention to how red it’s become. “It's… kinda nice."

"It'd be nicer if you said yes," Claude says, voice a thousand times calmer than he feels. It hits him all at once that yes, he really _did_ just ask someone out on a date (but he's not just _someone,_ is he? He’s Sylvain Gautier, who’s left a hundred hearts broken in his wake), and that he's tantalizingly close to actually _getting_ one.

He just needs to make one more small push. "Tomorrow night?” Claude holds out a hand, palm-up. Sylvain looks down at it, and his hand twitches as if he wants to reach out and take it, but doesn’t yet dare. “We could go into town."

Sylvain takes a deep breath. His smile isn't quite… _gone_ gone, but it's definitely morphed into something… different. Claude isn't sure what to call it - curious, perhaps? Disbelieving?

…Or maybe even _pleased_ , if he dares to give himself that hope? 

Sylvain meets his eye. Holds his gaze. "Wow," he breathes. "You… you really are serious about this, huh?" 

Claude winks. Sylvain's face turns an even darker shade of red. 

"You know…" He looks away again, he grumbling into his hand as if he is suddenly unable to meet Claude's eyes. "There's a joke in here somewhere. Something about deer and lions…"

"Tell it to me over dinner." He's pushing it a bit hard now and he knows it, but the way Sylvain's lips twitch on a huff of laughter tells him it's a very welcome push. 

"R-right. Okay… yeah. Yeah, sure, why not? I’d like that. It sounds like a good time." He laughs again, a sound caught between disbelief and giddy satisfaction, and Claude finally permits himself to believe that the look on Sylvain's face now is one of genuine excitement. He's learned how to tell when Sylvain is acting for someone else's sake, and at the moment his countenance bears no sign of its usual pretense. Sylvain’s smile now isn’t the kind he usually wears: he is not waiting for someone to turn their back, not forcing anything he isn’t actually feeling. This smile is _real_ , genuine. One of the few Claude has ever caught him wearing.

 _It’s… nice_. And that is all Claude will allow himself to think.

"Great," he says, maybe a little too loudly. He tries to calm himself, taking a long breath through his nose in an attempt to still the furious beating of his heart. He's certain he must look like he's vibrating with the intensity of it. "I'll come get you sometime around… Hm, after the evening bell goes off?" 

It takes Sylvain a moment to compose himself, like he can hardly believe what he's hearing. Claude can't blame him – he’d never meant to take the game this far, even though it had been his end goal for a while. But Sylvain does manage to pull himself together, slipping his mask back on like it had never fallen away. And then it's right back to his old self, reaching ( _at last_ ) for Claude's hand and taking it in his own. He grins flirtatiously as he turns it over in his palm.

Claude raises an eyebrow, simultaneously asking what Sylvain is doing and giving him permission to go ahead with it.

Sylvain does not disappoint. He grins and lifts Claude’s hand to his lips, closing his eyes as he leans forward to lay a ghost-like kiss on each knuckle. When he finishes, he gazes up at Claude from under his long, long eyelashes. "It's a date."

 _Damn him, he’s good._ Claude swallows the lump in his throat, fights down the flush on his cheeks. “Can’t wait,” he says, a teasing tone to his voice.

Sylvain nods, a tiny jerk of the head (is he surprised he didn’t get a stronger reaction out of Claude?), and lets his hand go. He lingers a moment, once again holding Claude’s gaze, as if he’s trying to figure something out. But then he blinks, stands, and turns to leave.

“See you tomorrow, then.”

Claude waves goodbye and happily watches him head to the library door. “Yes, you will. Just don’t keep me waiting too long.”

“Handsome guy like you?” Sylvain pauses to turn, wink, and blow a kiss in Claude’s direction. “I would never even dream of it.”

It’s unbelievably cheesy, but it’s Sylvain’s way of getting the last word in. Somehow, Claude finds he doesn’t even mind the embarrassed flush that creeps up his neck in response as Sylvain smirks at him over his shoulder. How can he, when in the end they’ve both gotten exactly what they want? 

Claude smiles. _Tomorrow night is going to be fun._

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if I'm going to continue this or not... but we'll see! 
> 
> If you enjoyed this and would like to see more, have a chat, or find out how to support me, please check out my twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r) or follow my writing blog [@intim3ate](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com), where I post progress, WIPs, and take requests.
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